The Romantic Erotic Novel

Chapter 14 – Part 3, Not Incest

This is chapter 14, part 3 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.

Chapter 14 – Part 3, Not Incest

I missed María’s next stripper night, working on remote contracts in the house. Pablo brought her home around 4:00 AM, and we talked in the morning. María said,

“Brett came in the club with a large group of college friends including a couple of girls. He was cocky and showing off, like he was a big man-of-the-world. He lap-danced the same cute girl as before, then they came to the stage edge to watch me on the pole and stick money in my tanga.”

“How did the girls react?”

“I think one of them, a plain, sour-face girl, is his current girlfriend. They held back and watched, didn’t look too happy. I heard some of his buddies say they wanted to ‘do’ me, and Brett told them to ‘go for it’. I told Pablo to give them the student discount, and I lap-danced maybe six, the standard routine except I let them touch me. One of the guys wedged his hand into my vulva, and I wiggled on it like I was trying to get a climax. That got them excited and two of them went to ask Pablo for a lap-fuck, but they didn’t have the money.”

“Nice friends Brett has, wanting to fuck his mother …”

“It was cute, they were so young and cute and excited, big hard-ons but no money. I think they’re going to be regular customers now.”

“I guess I’ll have to go with you from now on. Pablo only cares about the money. If I’m there, it’ll tamp down their excitement.”

Four nights later, Brett and a small group of five guys and one girl joined me at the stage edge. Brett showed-off, pontificating about how a woman can be wife, mother, whore, and prostitute, all in the same package. We hooted and cheered for all the dancers, slurped beer, and did the tattoo-kiss-money-in-tanga trick twice with María before Brett’s group moved off to a table. Out of the corner of my vision, I watched them in an animated discussion, almost an argument, until I noticed Brett looking at me and María with a twisted smile of terror. He came to sit by me, and said,

“We pooled our money to buy a lap-fuck with María, and drew straws. I lost, urr, won the lap-fuck. I don’t know what to do.”

“No way, they set you up to humiliate you. Take your cute girl instead, I think she’d love to do it, I see her looking at you all the time.”

“I can’t change that, it’s the rules we made. I’d be the laughing stock of my friends if I don’t do it. My girlfriend is really upset.”

“Ok, it’s still no problem. María won’t do it, so you’ll save face. Act like you want to do it, go talk with Pablo, he’ll tell you no, then have him set you up with the cute girl’s handler. It’ll be fun, and you’ll get a lot of prestige points for a good show.”

Brett went over to Pablo, who signaled María as she roamed the floor selling drinks. Pablo pointed at Brett, and she nodded ‘yes’. Brett looked at me terrified, then Pablo led him to the back room. His group headed for the room, and I tried but failed to intercept María as she disappeared into the dressing room.

I sat in the middle of the jerk-off bar, and Brett’s group came to join me. Brett sat in the platform chair, and María came in strutting, more extravagant than ever. She started the lap-dance warm-up, and placed his hands on her body. Her pheromones slammed him and he lost both his terror and control, rubbing himself, all over her body, digging into her tanga.

Like she had done the previous time we watched her, she stood, pulled off her tanga bending forward, this time spreading her legs some, showing-off her still closed vulva. She knelt between his legs, lowered her head and sucked his penis for a few moments, her head bobbing in long vertical swoops, like she milked him.

I was stunned, she had never done this before. This is when I realized she was going all the way with her son, going for the grand slam. Her pheromones wafted to me, and I opened my pants and began pumping. I was on the edge, sure to ejaculate even before Brett.

María’s arms showed the movements of applying the condom and lubrication, then pumping his penis.

She slid up Brett’s body, he sucked her pasties off her nipples, then she paused, pressing her nipples into his mouth, rolling from breast to breast across his face. Brett was lost, eyes closed, kissing, licking and sucking her nipples, lost in hormones.

Now María stood facing us, backed-up straddling Brett’s legs, and reached for his penis. She opened her vulva with his penis head, then stretched his penis up the valley of her vulva past her clitoris. I hadn’t seen Brett’s penis in years, and I saw how much longer and narrower his was than mine. She caressed his penis up and down within her vulva, and I marveled how he managed to hold his ejaculation – I would have discharged by now. I thought back to how he got his different penis, and was pleased he hadn’t inherited my early ejaculation problem.

Brett’s girlfriend gasped, “Oh gawd!”, and I saw it at the same time. My stomach and groin cramped, and I bent forward in pain, then my head snapped back as I climaxed – Brett didn’t wear a condom. María hadn’t put on a condom! She was going to fuck her son and take his semen and sperm into her!

María screwed her vagina down on his penis as Brett pushed his hips upward into her. Brett’s girlfriend pulled on the guy sitting next to her, demanding he take her out, and they left. As María vertically stroked onto Brett, I glanced at his other classmates, their faces painted with fascination and horror. Two others left, leaving the biggest jerk of the group sitting next to me. He leaned forward on the bar, pumping his penis non-stop, muttering, “sí, chinga tu madre, chinga tu madre” (yes, fuck your mother). The length of Brett’s penis and the up-and-down motion of María’s body to accommodate it was intensely erotic.

María disengaged, turned around facing Brett, and guided his penis into her vagina. She reclined his seat and laid nearly flat on his body. Raising her hips, she stroked him front and back, fully exposed to the audience. She continued stroking until he arched his back and raised his hips to slam his penis deep into her and cried-out as he ejaculated.

María continued stroking as he jerked into her. Brett’s body stiffened, collapsed and she leaned forward and deep kissed him, never pausing until his penis fell out of her. They whispered to each other, hopefully not protestations of love.

She was beautiful, vulva engorged, protruding clitoris bright red, the kind of woman any husband or mother-fucking son would want to have. She caught her breath, slid down his legs, closed his pants, pulled on a robe and helped Brett up. She must have felt the dribble of semen – she bunched and wiped the robe between her legs. They left together, holding hands.

I waited with the classmate jerk out at the main stage until Pablo came out. He said he’d take Brett back to Guanajuato, as they lived only a few houses apart. I understood Brett might not want to see me that night. I gave Pablo the OK to keep María overnight – he would fuck her energetically, which would help her erase any misgivings she might have about the night. I was steaming hot, wanting to give her my own energetic fucking, but I understood her feelings.

* * *

I called Pablo in the morning, and he said María was conflicted and not ready to see me or Brett quite yet. This went on everyday for a week, and I became uneasy something else was wrong. On the eighth day, I had an anxiety fit in the late afternoon, jumped in my car and headed to Pablo’s place unannounced. I found a parking spot a few houses down from his place, and by the time I fit the car in the spot, Pablo was waiting as I got out of the car.

Pablo met me at the car, and said,

“I’ve been expecting you. María told me in the morning you were coming.”

“How could she have known, I only decided to come half an hour ago.”

“I don’t know, she’s been strange. She’s been depressed and crying every day since the Brett-fuck.”

I said, “I suppose you fucked her each time she cried?”

“It would be more accurate to say she fucked me each time.”

“Well, ok, it’s time she comes home. Where is she?”

“Listen, I want her to stay. She’s been here a week and didn’t want to go. If you don’t really love her, I’ll keep her. I’m in love with her and I’m perfect for her. Just walk away, and I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

“Perfect? I’ve met the man that’s perfect for her and you aren’t even close. I know I’m not perfect either, but I’m a lot closer than you. Where is she?”

“In the house, come on.”

María sat on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chin, wearing only a waist length man’s shirt. She sported a big red welt on her hip. I asked, “Is that another tattoo?”

“It’s good to see you too.”

“Sorry, I’m dying to have you back home – will you come back with me now?”

“Yes, it’s a tattoo but it’s not for you. I’ve been waiting for you all week. I’m ready.”

She stood, picked-up her stripper’s tanga, then said, “Can you wait outside a few minutes? I’ll doubt I’ll ever be here again, and I owe Pablo a good-bye.”

I went back to the car and waited. María appeared about 10 minutes later wearing her tanga, Pablo’s shirt, and heels. She covered her new tattoo with her hand.

“Where are your clothes?”

“I left them at the club, I’m never going back there.”

“Do I get to kiss your new tattoo?”

“No. Why didn’t you come for me?”

“I called Pablo everyday – he told me you didn’t want to return home yet.”

We looked at each other for a few moments, and I said, “He wants to keep you. He was fighting for you. To think I trusted him.”

“He drowned me in semen. It would have worked years ago, but now I have Brett and you. Please take me home.”

I drove out of the student ghetto, then pulled over and said,

“When you’re not with me, I hurt. I can tolerate what you do with other men, as long as you’re with me. Please, let’s not do this again.”

“Are you sure? I can see it in your face – you want that little tweak of humiliation, that’s why you waited to come for me, isn’t it? You want to know how many times, don’t you. Three or four times a day. Then at night. I thought you and Brett didn’t want me, and I cried. Pablo fucked me and I felt better, wanted. Then I cried just to get him to fuck me again. Don’t ever do that again. He could have taken me, but I knew you’d come for me today. I didn’t let him fuck me today cause I knew you were coming. But if you want humiliation, you can kiss me now – I still have his taste in my mouth.”

“No thanks. I’m not doing humiliation anymore. I almost lost you to U&P. I don’t know how I could’ve survived that. You’re embedded in me. If you pull away, you’ll tear out huge chunks of me. I don’t need you to have other men any more, that’s only your decision now. I just want you with me always.”

“Take me home and fuck me. You need to push Pablo out of my body.”

“Can I see your new tattoo?”

“No.”

We spent the rest of the day in the bedroom with cariños, junk snacks, and soap operas, afraid to talk yet about Brett and that last night at the club.

* * *

As usual in summertime, María roamed the house topless, wearing only a raggedy cut-off shorts. We sat to talk, the last week had been a strange trauma to our family and we needed to get it out. María always hated these discussions, alway fearful I would do or say I-don’t-know-what. I couldn’t think of where to start, so I said,

“I’m sorry for what happened with Brett, and with Pablo. It’s my fault. I don’t know what got into me, the devil made me do it.”

María began giggling which provoked me, and soon we were both laughing, crying and hugging. When María could talk, she said only, “Yes, me too, the devil. Thank you for that.”

That easily, we absolved all our mutual blame, and so it was easy to discuss what had happened. I said,

“You were beautiful and it was a magnificent fuck. I’m proud, and I hope Brett feels the same way. Please don’t be offended if I tell you watching you made me want you as my whore, and not my wife. The men that get you as a whore get so much more of you than I get as a husband.”

“You keep saying that. It’s stupid to change a great wife for a easy whore any man can use. You shouldn’t have watched me. My husband shouldn’t see that, it’s not for you. Be content with what you get. I’ll let it pass you called me a whore again. But thanks for the compliment.”

“I was still surprised you accepted to fuck Brett …”

“But you’re the one that sent him to Pablo to ask for me. I thought you wanted it.”

“No, no, I sent him so you or Pablo would say ‘no’ and save Brett’s face with his school mates. Then he would have asked for the cute stripper.”

We stared at each other for a few moments, then started laughing together. We somehow always blundered with the best intentions. I asked,

“I saw you and Brett whispering after he finished. What did you say?”

“He only said I was a gutter whore. I guess he meant our screwing was ok.”

“And you said?”

“It upset me a little, then I realized he was just clearing his conscience. I don’t remember what I said, I think it was something agreeable like ‘yes, you screwed a worthless whore, you did good.’”

“I haven’t seen Brett since then. I’ve no idea how he took it and how his class mates have treated him since. He’s still immature. We probably need to get a unified story together for when we see him. If he hasn’t resolved the ‘mother’ issue, well, I don’t know how we’ll handle it.”

“First, I want to know how you really feel about it.”

“Intellectually, I know it was ok. You can’t get pregnant so there’s no chance of genetic inbreeding. I accept a woman can have multiple roles, and manage them separately, something men are hormonally incapable of accepting for their women. Yet some cultural or religious ghost tells me it’s wrong. There’s the age difference. What if either or both of you fell in love? Boys always have a special love for their mothers that could easily be twisted. And even men of Brett’s age aren’t fully mature yet, far behind their mothers. Intellectually? ok; culturally? I think ok if you flush down the brainwashing societies give you; Emotionally? well, it knots me up at my age and experience. I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt my boy. What about you?”

María was cut off by the moment we’d been fearing – Brett came in the house. He stopped short when he saw María at the table topless, then perhaps realizing the ridiculousness of discomfort at seeing her breasts, he came to sit across from her. But he couldn’t help but stare. María straightened up in the chair, protruded her breasts slightly, and said, “It’s ok, this is what a real woman looks like. Mothers and whores look no different. I’ll go put a shirt if it bothers you.”

“No, it’s ok, I’m good to see you and get used to my mother, as a woman and a whore. I realize the sex business is legitimate and socially valuable. And I know a woman can be a wife, mother, whore, even a hooker all in the same body. Society says it’s wrong, but their reasons are mostly prejudice and religious mumbo-jumbo. It’s hard at first, but I get it.”

María and I exchanged glances. We had been anxious, and now Brett was the adult in the room.

He glanced at me and continued, “Even so, I’d never let my own wife do it, and I’d wish it wasn’t my mother, but someone’s gonna do it, and you’re perfect, a free spirit. My friends say you’re fantastic, and I’m somehow proud of that.”

He looked at me, “It’s not like she’s sneaking around, deceiving you. If you’re ok with it, I have to be. I still have these twinges to the heart to know my mother sells sex. But each time I feel the twinge, it’s easier. I’ll be ok.”

He looked back into María, “I feel I shouldn’t have screwed you, but I can’t think of good reasons not to screw the whore in you. So, thank you for that experience.”

María’s face glowed, and she said, “You’re welcome.”

Brett became pensive, “I was afraid my friends would treat me differently, you know, the whole ‘chinga tu madre‘ (fuck your mother) insult. Instead, I’ve gotten so much, uh, well, the boys treat me with respect. The most popular guy in the college, a senior soccer jock, told me I ‘d made a monster score, and now the prettiest girls are all flirting with me. I’ve had more, uh, forgive the slang, more pussy in the last week, than for months before. It’s not like they want me for a boyfriend, I don’t know what they’re after, and most of them leave their panties.”

María asked me to go get the new digital camera, and when I returned, she stood nude next to Brett. I finally saw her new tattoo, The same cupid’s heart as before with only one name, ‘Brett’. María positioned Brett behind her, she turned sideways, told Brett to put his arm around her buttocks, a finger pointing at his name. As she directed, Brett’s face showed past her belly, and she angled towards the camera until the bulge of her vulva was visible along with both nipples. It took several shots to get an image that satisfied her – an image that implied she was a regular fuck for him.

I asked her, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“It would be a horrible idea but I’m already the town whore, for me it won’t make any difference. For Brett, it’ll be a huge prestige boost, he’ll be drowning in pussy. Brett, I’ll send you the image. Come back in a few days, I’ll have a present for you.”

Looking at me again, Brett said, “Well this is probably a horrible idea too – the next time you’re in whore mode, I’d like to be the first in line.”

María smiled like the sunrise, “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received from the most important man in my life. I’m tempted, but I think I’ll just be your mother from now on. I’m not going back to the club. I’m out of the whore business, and you’ll have more pussy than you can handle. Get as much as you can, and leave your mark on them. They want it.”

“I never thought I’d hear my mother say something like that. You guys are strange and amazing. Ok, I’ve got to run, I’ve got a hot date in a few minutes, another girl to mark.”

After Brett left, I commented, “You’ve marked your body permanently with your son’s name as a lover.”

“He loves me more than you, even when he hates me. If I wasn’t too old for him, I might go permanent whore and lover to him. It won’t happen though. Can you live with your son’s name on my body? You’ll have to kiss it too.”

“Do I have a choice? I can’t live without you. I hope you’re not going to fuck him again?”

“Only if he’s around when I’m in whore mode. Not likely.”

“If we had a daughter and I fucked her, would that be ok with you?”

“I’d cut off your prick if you touched her.”

María fussed around for two days making something special for Brett, but she wouldn’t let me see it. Brett came by to pick it up, and unwrapped it. It was a small picture frame mounting María’s stripper tanga pressed under glass. A brass tag affixed to the frame bottom read:

María ‘Puta’ Ordinary
A Monstrous Score
by Brett Martin Ordinary

María told him, “You made a monster score and that deserves a trophy.”

Brett hung the trophy over his bed and finally discovered what the girls fucking him were really after – they fucked him under the tanga trophy, and one girl told him, “I want to be a free slut like your María.”

* * *

María did continue pole-dance and no-touch lap-dancing at the club, but no lap-fucking. Against club policy, the club let me be her handler since she was so popular. Her politician and his cute bitch came frequently to the club, and the politician was her best lap-dance customer. For public consumption, I let him touch her. Meanwhile, his bitch and I interchanged penis pumps under the table. That bitch had great hands – he quickly learned to bursty squeeze my testicles against the bangle causing me to twitch and jerk in my seat. He got me off easily within the 5 minute lap-dance timer, and he smeared my semen on the outside of my pants so everyone would know. If I caught him in the bathroom, I got my revenge, deep mouth-fucking him until he gagged. I found that sexually tormenting another man was immensely satisfying, and I decided all men should either have a bitch or be a bitch or both. I’m sure María knew but she never mentioned it – it was the devil’s work.

María continued to escort the politician once or twice per week. This combination of celebrity luxury, sleaze-joint exhibitionism, and my improved sexual drive at home seemed to satisfy her. I still sensed she missed that fire-in-her-groin, but she was no longer prowling nor trying to replace me. I suspected she had an occasional sex partner when I wasn’t enough for her, but I didn’t ask.

* * *

María and I went out to eat and ran into Brett and his latest conquest at the restaurant. His girl was a stunning mulatta from Panama and they sat in the midst of a student-exchange group of dark-skin Panamanians, two females and six men. María immediately went full hormones, flooded the room with her pheromones and she had barely sat before she flashed her INVITATION at the whole group of men. The men knew exactly what it meant. Brett didn’t yet know about María’s preference for black men.

María rotated among 5 mulatto men for most of the semester, floating in a black penis heaven.

Brett was appalled his chance encounter at the restaurant had connected María to this ‘orgy’ (Brett’s words) of men. He initially tolerated her orgy, which added to his prestige among his classmates. I marveled our son, who would never allow his own fiancée or wife to touch another man would be so forgiving with his mother, but life is like that, I guess. He told me he understood her desires and was protecting her within the group from less desirable men.

Until she caught gonorrhea from somewhere and passed it around the group, who spread it farther abroad. This caused a mini-scandal at the school, including articles about the health dangers of foreign men in the local newspaper.

“I’ll never marry a slut, and I’d prefer a virgin. Ninety-nine percent of the women I’ve fucked recently could never be my life partner. I’ll never tolerate the slightest infidelity in my woman.”

This shocked me, “These women are amazing and beautiful. How can you pursue and seduce them, then say they weren’t worthy of marriage because you fucked them.”

“Seducing them is a test of their moral character, I can eliminate the worst of them that way. Besides, I only eliminate the easy ones, the sluts. You never know what disease they’ll give you. If they make me work hard for their pussy, they’re more likely to be clean and they stay on my list.”

I wondered if Brett’s new macho morality was really a moral issue or if he had conflated sluttery with disease. I’d have to restart our conversation about women again, but it would be more difficult this time – he was much more experienced now. María and I noticed the women he was bringing around again to meet us were the plain, insipid type.

Brett’s relationship with María changed too. He became what I should have been in a conventional penis morality – he nagged and pressured her about fucking around, and used the whore word constantly. I thought a son should be even more respectful to his mother than a husband to his wife. María was cool about it, her fiery Latina stayed inside. Now I saw the mother/son relationship was firmly re-established. She explained to me,

“Brett loves me more than you, the deep love of a son and once sex partner. He has to nag me to cover his guilt for having sex with me. I forgive him everything because it’s for love.”

So I stayed intimately involved in her affairs, dressing her and doing her makeup. We went to León to buy her new lingerie, sexy dresses and outfits. It was crazy – I was making her sexy and irresistible, then letting her go out on her own. I thought that would help keep us together. I wanted to find her a woman lover. There was no shortage of candidates in Guanajuato, beautiful Mexican women, but María was fixated on penises.

I was determined to cement our bonds, and I started thinking about our marriage again, trying to interest María in the wedding plans. She was only half-heartedly interested but played along. We tried on Mexican Charro dresses – they were beautiful and sexy. María started getting excited, and I bought her favorite wedding dress.

Our small family was close again. María and I spent lots of time in cariños, giggling, laughing, and making love. Months passed and María tapered off on stripping and outside sex partners, finally stopping altogether. Her politician lost the election when the local paper outed him, so he didn’t need her anymore. I heard later María had been whoring votes for him at their political events, her idea, not his, but I didn’t care. Now, it was just me and her. For the first time in my life, I thought I was enough for her. We were happy together. Life was good again.

End of book content.

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